The two of you were sitting on the fire escape again, sharing a cigarette like you always did when the air got too thick in the apartment.

It was spring, but New York didn’t care. The breeze was still cold, and your sleeves were rolled up against rusted railing.

“You ever think about enlisting?” Bucky asked suddenly, eyes fixed on the street like he hadn’t just dropped something heavy between you.

You looked at him. “You serious?”

He shrugged. Real casual. Like it was just a passing thought.

“I mean… yeah. I’ve thought about it,” you said slowly. “Who hasn’t? But thinking and doing are different things.”

Bucky nodded. He didn’t respond right away, just took the cigarette from your hand, breathed in like he was buying himself time.

Then, “They say there’s gonna be a bigger push. More boots on the ground. Word is, it’s not gonna be long now.”

“You trying to convince me or warn me?”

He smiled a little, just enough to play it off.

“Nah, just talking. But it’s good work. Honest. You get to do something that matters.” He nudged your knee with his. “Come on, you’d look good in uniform.”

You scoffed. “You’re not slick, Barnes.”

“Didn’t say I was.”

The cigarette burned down to the filter. You both watched the glow die.

And in the silence, you caught the part he didn’t say. He was going. That wasn’t a maybe anymore. And he didn’t want to say it out loud because it made it real. But he also didn’t want to leave alone.